After a few hours of a boat ride, Romeo pulled up to an island. As far as islands go, I thought it was a relatively small one—but lush with vibrant green vegetation. I had no clue where the fuck we were, but it didn't matter; I focused on tackling the anxiety squirming around inside of me, that fear of failure. Romeo swapped into sandals, slipped his shades on, and hopped off the boat with a smirk and swagger as if we'd gone on vacation. "I'll take a look. You will set up my tent on the dirt, no?"

I followed him off the boat. The jade bottle in my pack felt multiple times heavier than it actually was. I didn't need to get stronger for only myself but those around me. That burden was intense; failure here meant their suffering.

I set up the tent. It was a simple green tent that didn't quite fit my uncle. As I jammed the pegs into the ground, I felt my piled exhaustion threatening to collapse on me. The wind was a pleasant relief as I watched the waves slowly rock the boat anchored not far from shore. I'd made a lot of selfish decisions. I’d thought joining the Brass Kings would be the best way to earn cash—nominally, for my Ma. But was it? I joined because I couldn’t hold a real job and thought trouble was fun. She’d never complained either, even as I watched her struggle after pops passed away.

After setting up the tent, I sat before the waves and watched the water as it flowed back and forth. The constant rocking motion was a balm for my soul.

Ma had never asked for my help; it'd been me who insisted after seeing her pain and struggle. But how much had I added to that she didn't show? How much money had I blown on dumb bets? That pervasive thought that maybe this gamble would be the one always led to worse decisions and prevented me from doing right by my family.

I'd been hotheaded, arrogant, and like Eve always said: A complete dumbass. It was only by luck I fell into the Seventh Division— that things seemed to be turning around. And I’d thought it was the end of the world when they took me in.

How much had I been wrong about? The lack of perspective was enough to want to slap myself. But there wasn't anything I could do about it now, hours away from New Valentine; it wasn't like I could swim back, and I sure didn't know how to drive a boat. It's funny how distance can put your struggles in a new light. Make you see the failing of how you approached your decisions; why had I been so small-minded?

Tristan went on and on about me failing to plan. And he'd been right. Every time I could've set myself up for a better path down the road, I'd chosen the option that gave the most immediate gratification.

Romeo walked back through the small forest; sunglasses tucked in his shirt, he arched an eyebrow.

“Ya ever…”

“Wonder why we do this?” He read my thoughts, and the shock must’ve shown since Romeo let out a small laugh. “I’ve worn that same expression before—but it is a simple answer, no?”

“If it is, I don’t see it.”

“It is because we must, passerotto. It is our duty, as those blessed with anima. There are plenty who cannot ever do what we do—even those among our own family. So we, chosen by the heavens, must be the pillar of strength as they intended. To rise to that duty, Luca, that is what it means to be a man. You understand, yes?”

I let his answer sit, and my Uncle joined me in the sand. Despite the pressing future of me breaking into the next stage, he was content to let us relax on the beach. The absurdity of this vacation nearly made me laugh out loud. We’d spent two weeks in a hectic whirl of training that broke me multiple times with exhaustion and strained my limits. But now, we were soaking in the sun on a small island.

I was grateful for the silence. That Romeo always offered me the chance to think through his words. I’d never fully realized it, but the man’s meaning always seemed to live between his words—like him, they had more to them than the extravagance of their first appearance.

Orange and red birds flickered around the island. Then I felt it. A sort of natural energy to this place that radiated from below. The clean air, the nature, simplicity in this pocket of the world I never got in my day-to-day life in New Valentine.

Eventually, I stood up, stretching. The sun was starting to reach the horizon. I supposed we’d head to sleep and get started in the morning. I began to walk towards the tent. Romeo somehow climbed to his feet and slid between me and the tent in an instant—A wild smile filled with malicious intent plastered on his face. “Where is it you think you’re going, passerotto?”

“Early night. Betting tomorrow's going to be real hell, figured I’d get some rest in before throwing myself into it.”

“Oh, no, no. It begins now, passerotto.” He gestured to a spot on the beach not far from where we were sitting. “That is where you shall face your heavenly tribulation. As the sole family member of yours also blessed by the heavens, I shall have the honor of guarding you as you take this first step on your path. I shall do for you as your father once did for me.” He caught me by the shoulder, pushing me to the spot—then down onto the ground. “Form the Lotus pose.”

I gave him a funny look. Of course, he undoubtedly meant that I’d start tonight with some meditation. Tomorrow some training. Suspicious, I crossed my legs, the bottoms of my feet angled towards the sky as I moved my fingers to the correct space for the pose. I was still uncomfortable with it—since it took a fair bit of flexibility, but Romeo drilled me closer and closer to this point.

“Now circulate.”

I followed the instruction and let my breath flow a pattern. Letting the energy course through the coiled roots of my Soul Seed. It wound through me as I soaked in the natural spirit radiating off this place. I was going for a good thirty minutes before I opened my eyes.

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“No! Focus! Get back to circulation. Ponder your Dao. You shall know it is time when your Soul Seed chimes—when you feel it radiate with power, and your roots untangle to sink into a more natural position in you. At that moment, consume the pill! Not a second before.”

“I’m sleepy. Can’t we get started on this tomorrow? At this rate, I’m gonna pass out.”

“Ah! Have no worry, my Soul and I shall keep you awake!” Romeo chuckled, and I got a bad feeling. “There is no sleeping until you break through to the next stage. Once you have, then you may rest.”

Oh no. I heard Romeo fumble in my pack—and sneaked a peek to see the jade bottle land near me. This wasn’t going to end any time soon. Romeo laughed at the panic on my face. Before that mangy green wolf that was his Soul burst forth from his palm.

“Be good—watch my nephew until the sun rises! I will be getting some much-needed rest. Best of luck, passerotto. See you in the morning!”

And with that, he left me. His Soul was watching over me, but no sleep for me. I had to stay meditating after weeks of exhaustive training on the beach; he got to rest in the tent I set up. Motherfucker.

I settled into the lotus pose. It only took half of an hour before I got sore. After two hours, the cold cut through my bone, and the sun sank into the water. The constant feel of wind pushing saltwater in my face annoyed me to no end. If I tried to get up to move, Romeo’s green hound would growl. When I pushed my luck once—his Soul shoved me back in place and shook its head at me. I was a prisoner to this spot. I was stuck here until I managed to cultivate my way out.

Fucking ridiculous. But Romeo tied my hands. I had no other choice but to give this a real go, even if meditation didn’t do a thing for me.

Romeo always went on and on about my understanding of my Soul Seed. He took every chance to tell me how wrong I was, and I’d accepted that. If it wasn’t gambling, how could I explain that sweet euphoria that always hit when I took a bet? It was like my Soul Seed craved it, the way an alchemy junky needed their next fix. It made no damn sense.

If it wasn’t gambling, what was it, risk? The Dao of Risk? Immortal of Risk? I doubted it. Didn’t quite sit right.

What did I like about gambling? Why did it drive my Soul Seed into a frenzy? The thought of it always made my hands sweaty, my heart raced, and my mind reeled over the possibilities. Almost like there were a thousand different ways life could go, all hinging on a single moment: a single dice roll—card flip. There wasn’t anything like it. That same sense came to me in fights, knowing that a single punch might end it all. A slip could land me on a knife and end my life. But was that a gamble?

The moon sunk lower in the sky; I occasionally popped open my eyes to take in the night. While Romeo’s Soul could watch to make sure I didn’t move, it had no idea of knowing when I took a break from cultivating, unlike him. I took a few short rests to break up the boring, and the growingly taxing job of shoving energy through my Soul Roots

After about ten more hours, the sun began to break the skyline again. When would my Uncle call this? Surely he couldn’t afford to waste more than a few more days on me. Life would eventually go back to normal. I’d be the same street rat I was before, walking around with my ounce of power and acting like it was worth more than it was.

I’d be back on the same shitty trajectory of my life, which had a decent shot of ending in two weeks. It wasn’t a stretch to say he planned some kind of attack based on Tristan's prior acts. Though, how he planned to justify it to the Brass Kings, I didn’t have a clue. I’d grown stronger, but if I couldn’t break through to the next stage, I would die. People would pay the price for my actions.

It all seemed so pointless. I wasn’t enough. I was a small kid who never got over his father's death and lashed out against all the people who wanted to help—driving myself further into a hole and bashing my head down there, too afraid to accept any hands trying to help me out.

Romeo swapped with his Soul but didn’t say a word. Casually relaxing on the beach on a towel, occasionally turning a calm and measured glance at me. How much of this was for me, and how much of it was a private vacation for him?

Around noon, he broke out food. I tried to get up to join him, starving.

He was over to me in a second and shoved me back down into the sand. “No, passerotto. There is no eating until you’ve finished.”

My eyes shot wide, and my stomach protested, but there was no breaking that command. I’d promised, and he’d shove me back down even if I disobeyed. There was nothing I could do as he at the delicious smelling sandwich, and later when he grilled a steak on a fire.

Another day passed.

No sleep. No food. I was a shell and could barely feel my legs from their extended lotus pose. There wasn’t a shot in hell I’d be able to even walk after this damn exercise. And I wasn’t going to break through soon. If I hadn’t been born with this damned Soul Seed, where would I be right now? Where would fate have taken me? Would I have done well in school like Alex? Maybe I’d have some prospects for my future other than life on the streets. I was a cultivator. But did that mean a damn? There were those in Sects and corporations who got to live snug little lives that maybe pushed them to immortality. Yet, here I was—a piece of shit to the people I cared about because of my choices.

If I wasn’t a cultivator, would I have felt alone for so long?

These choices weren’t imposed on me. Sure, I didn’t have a say in some decisions, but I picked how I’d reacted to what life threw my way. But after dad died, I’d pushed my luck, again and again, lashing out and trying to find danger. Blaming it on my Soul Seed, trying to justify it by thinking it was just a part of my path to pursuing my Dao.

It’d been me who cornered myself into a box. I lied to myself and swore that I'd have a better life if I’d been born different. But if I traced those roots back to the Seed of the problem—it was me, not how I’d been born.

I’d always been the one who decided my fate. I’d been the one to fuck up my life in innumerable ways. Impulsive, brash, and pigheaded to the point of failure.

It'd been me all along, from joining the Brass Kings to ignoring school. I’d chased a dragon with more significant risks until something always broke. Why?

Because it felt good, throwing your life into chance absolved yourself of the results that came after, it was a freedom that came from lying to yourself. You might not be the one who decided what way the dice would land, but you were the one who threw them. I pushed away people because they might see what I was doing, afraid they might keep me accountable.

I’d been the one to decide my fate wasn’t mine to make.

Fickle Fate was little better than a coin flip. But not because of my Dao.

It was because of me.

Something snapped. My eyes opened wide with shock as a pure electric burst popped in me. That was it. A deep thundered chime ran out from the Soul Seed in my chest. My Dao—it was Fate. It was how the world came across crossroads, to shift it, be part of it, and explore it. That was what my Soul Seed craved. I’d been so fucking blind.